


The Big Easy

by TheNightComesDown



Series: The Pacific - Love Heals [8]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, New Orleans, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 08:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: Four years after returning from overseas, Sledge and Snafu have set up a life together in New Orleans.





	The Big Easy

**November 1950 – New Orleans **  
****

The front door of the public laundry swung open, releasing the fresh scent of soap into the air. Eugene Sledge held the door as a young woman from down the street hauled a large basket of folded shirts and trousers out the door. Sledge carried his own basket, overflowing with Snafu’s soiled work coveralls and his own collared shirts. Several ladies at the wash-station waved, and he went to join them. 

Although he had been a Saturday patron of the public laundry for nearly 2 years now, he still felt somewhat awkward being the only man in the place. When he had first stepped foot into the building, he was completely overwhelmed with the machinery. His mother had always done his washing, except for during his time overseas. A kindly grandmother had shown him the ropes, and since then, he had become an expert at pressing his slacks, and scrubbing grime out of Snafu’s clothes. 

An hour later he was on his way, fresh laundry in hand. The apartment he and Snafu shared was on the second story above a family-owned flower shop. Their landlady, a stout woman of sixty, greeted him at the door. 

“All washed up fo’ the week, Genie?” she asked, smiling brightly. She was well aware of his Saturday laundry habit - he always used his weekend off to catch up on chores. 

“Sure are,” he said, showing her his neatly folded pile. “I think I could give my mama a run for her money by now, don’t you?” Mrs. Benoit laughed, and patted him on the back. 

“I don’t know how either of you ever intend on findin’ a wife at this rate,” she scolded. “You’d put ‘er right outta work!” 

“I think we’re getting too old for that, Mrs. Benoit,” he said gravely, attempting to keep a straight face. “Nobody wants an old bachelor like me, anyways.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and made for the stairs. 

“My niece is coming for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Benoit hollered behind him, “One evening with her and you’ll change your mind about gettin’ married!” 

“We’ll be down at 6:30!” Sledge replied, stepping onto the upper landing. The door to the apartment was locked, in case a stray customer lost his way to the bathroom across the hall. He dug his key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing his way into the room. 

Sledge was surprised to hear that the door was lacking its usual squeak as he pushed it shut with his foot – Snafu must have oiled the hinges before leaving for work that morning. He set the laundry basket on the kitchen table and hung his keys on a hook beside the door. Peering around the room, Sledge saw that Snafu had washed the dishes, which now sat in the drying rack. The place was small and tidy, yet filled with signs of life. 

The day’s newspaper was open on the coffee table, turned to the comic page. Archie was a favourite of theirs, and Sledge made a mental note to read it later. On the far wall hung several photos and mementos – portraits of their parents, a photo of their Marine battalion. Two triangular shadowboxes held flags – an American flag, and the red circle on white of the Japanese flag, a souvenir from Okinawa. Sledge slipped his shoes off and padded across the hardwood floor into the kitchen, where he set to work making a pot of coffee. He leaned against the counter and waited, enjoying the rumble of the machine and the dark, wet scent of hot coffee grounds. 

With a soft meow, a grey tabby cat rubbed itself against Sledge’s ankle. A pair of large yellow eyes stared up at him, inquiring and attentive. 

“Hello there,” Sledge greeted the cat, bending down to scratch its ears. “How’s my little Louis today?” The cat’s tail flickered back and forth as Sledge pet him. After a moment, he picked the cat up in his arms, cradling its furry body like a baby. Louis purred, content to be held. After the coffee finished brewing, he poured a cup for himself and wandered into his bedroom. 

“Let’s get some reading done before Mer gets home, hmm?” he said, setting the cat down gently on the end of the bed. Louis kneaded at the quilt with his paws and settled in as Sledge knelt before the bookcase. He chose a thick biology volume (some pre-reading, in case he decided to go back for his Master's degree), set it on the nightstand, and made himself comfortable on his side of the bed. His reading glasses, which he’d been forced to start wearing only in the last year or so, and his pipe were tucked away in the nightstand drawer; he couldn’t get started without these. The glasses he set on the end of his nose, and the pipe he filled with tobacco, a new Louisiana-grown variation Snafu had introduced him to when they had moved from Mobile to New Orleans. 

He crossed his legs at the ankles and grabbed his book, a text on native plant species of the southern United States. He had dog-eared where he left off a few months before, somewhere in the “P” section, so he flipped through the alphabetized pages in search of his place marker. To his surprise, he found a dried purple bloom pressed between the pages of the book. The picture on the right-hand page identified it, but he had recognized it immediately – Louisiana Phlox. 

The first time he had seen the purple-blue blossoms of Louisiana Phlox had been on a fishing trip he and Snafu had taken last year, where Snafu had caught the biggest bass Sledge had ever seen. They often spent spring and summer weekends hiking, swimming or fishing together, but that weekend had been special. Beneath the weeping branches of a willow tree, the two of them had said their vows, as solemnly as if they had been in church. Only the birds and the creek heard them, but Snafu had declared that it was as good as anything else. The memory brought a warm surge of love to Sledge’s heart; he held the delicate flower between his finger and thumb as he recalled the day. 

The front door opened just then, and Snafu, whose hands and coveralls were stained with motor oil, stomped into the apartment. He stripped to his shorts and undershirt, hanging his work clothes from a hook on the back of the door. He had once gotten grease on the quilt after jumping into bed in his coveralls – Sledge had not been pleased. He walked into the bedroom whistling a jazzy tune he had heard over the shop radio that afternoon. Sledge had closed his book for the time being. 

“Evening, cher,” Snafu said, walking over to Sledge’s side of the bed. He leaned down and kissed Sledge, whose smiling face was very pleased to see him. 

“Look what I found today,” Sledge declared, opening the book to the flower-marked page. “Louisiana Phlox!” Snafu let out a hearty laugh as he saw the dried flower. 

“You just found that now?” he asked. “I musta put that little fella in there three months ago!” Sledge looked up and kissed Snafu’s stubbled jaw in thanks. He set his pipe and book aside as Snafu crawled onto the bed beside him. 

“How was your day, Mer?” Sledge asked, wrapping an arm around Snafu, who laid his head against Sledge’s chest. 

“Nothin’ special,” Snafu shrugged. “Did a bit of work in the shop before I went out and fixed an ol’ AC unit at the picture show down the street. Now we can go see a film in July without sittin’ in our skivvies!” he exclaimed. Sledge laughed as he remembered film patrons in their undershirts during the summer. 

“Glad you finally convinced Mr. Bauvais that it would be worth takin’ a look at,” Sledge said approvingly. “That fella hates spendin’ money more’n I hate my mother’s collard greens.” 

“I’ma write her a letter and tell her you said that,” Snafu warned gravely, “You know how I love her collard greens.” Sledge hugged his husband tightly and jabbed him beneath the ribs with his fingers, making him scream with laughter. 

“You’ll do no such thing, Merriell Shelton,” he warned, tickling Snafu, who attempted to wiggle away from him. 

“Stop, Eugene, I’m gonna die!” Snafu laughed. “I need to get dressed for dinner or Mrs. Benoit won’t feed me!” Sledge accepted Snafu’s excuse and released him from his grasp. Snafu climbed out of bed and began rifling through the dresser beside the bed. He glanced back at Sledge, who had opened his book and was admiring the flower again. 

“Checkin’ to make sure I’m not going to sneak up behind you there?” Sledge asked, having seen Snafu peer over his shoulder at him. 

“Nope, just checkin’ to see what color shirt you’re wearin’ so we don’t wear the same thing,” he replied, throwing a pair of slacks on the bed. A knock came at the apartment door, surprising them both. “You’d better get that, I’m in my shorts,” Snafu recommended. Sledge stood up, pulled the bedroom door closed, and crossed the small apartment in a few strides. He opened the door, expecting Mrs. Benoit had come up to tell them that dinner was done early, but was greeted by an unfamiliar woman in a short orange dress. 

“Sorry to bother you,” the young woman apologized, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “but my aunt asked me to call you down for supper.” Her voice turned up at the end of her sentence, as if she was asking a question. Sledge eyed the bouquet of flowers in her hand. 

“Those for us?” he asked, pointing at the flowers. The woman blushed and held them out to him. 

“Yes, uhh…” she stumbled over her words, “they, uh, Auntie said that lilies are your favourite.” Sledge accepted the flowers and opened the door, inviting the woman inside. 

“Come on in, we’ll be ready in just a minute,” Sledge smiled. She stepped awkwardly through the door and looked around the apartment as Sledge went to the kitchen in search of a vase. 

“Who was it?” Snafu called from behind the closed bedroom door, but Sledge didn’t hear him over the sound of water running in the kitchen. Snafu threw open the door, still buttoning his shirt. “Sledge, who was— oh,” he paused, noticing the young woman at the door. She smiled and opened her mouth to greet him, but the words died on her lips as she looked through the open bedroom door and noticed something – only one bed in the apartment. Snafu glanced over his shoulder and quickly understood her surprise. He reached back and pulled the door closed quickly, slamming it against the wooden frame. 

“Merriell, why are you slamming doors?” Sledge called out, bringing the vase of lilies and setting it on the kitchen table. “Our guest is gonna think we were raised in a barn,” he scolded. Snafu, his lips pressed tightly together, met Sledge’s eyes. “Look, Mrs. Benoit sent up your lilies…” Sledge trailed off, glancing between Snafu and the young woman at the door. “Everything alright?” he asked the woman slowly. 

“There’s, uhh…” she mumbled, “there’s just one, uhh…” Sledge frowned, confused. 

“Just one what?” he asked. Snafu shook his head in warning, but Sledge ignored him. “Just one…?” 

“Bed,” she finished, biting her lower lip. “You only have one bed here.” 

“Oh.” Sledge’s face went pale. He looked to Snafu, but saw the same stunned look on his face. “Well, now…you see, that’s because…we’re, um…” 

“Ready for supper?” she interrupted quickly, plastering a grin on her face. “Auntie’s made collard greens, we’d better get downstairs!” The woman opened the apartment door and stepped out, leaving Snafu and Sledge no choice but to follow. 

* * * 

After dinner, which Mrs. Benoit insisted her tenants have at her table on weekends, Sledge and Snafu shared a cigarette. As was typical for them after a meal, Snafu lit up at the table, took a drag, and passed the cigarette to Sledge. Mrs. Benoit thought nothing of it, having become used to the oddities of the men from upstairs by this point. Her niece, whose name they had discovered was Delilah, chewed her fingernails nervously as she watched. 

“Now, Merriell,” Mrs. Benoit said placidly as she laid a plate of praline tarts on the table, “don’t you think my Lilah is a sweet girl?” Sledge coughed, passing the cigarette back to Snafu as he tried to catch his breath. Snafu, putting on a flirtatious air, agreed heartily. 

“Certainly, Mrs. Benoit,” he smiled. “It’s been quite a while since I met such a well-mannered, Louisiana-bred lady.” Delilah’s eyes went wide as her aunt cooed with pleasure at the comment. 

“Well then,” Mrs. Benoit suggested, “maybe you’d like to have her upstairs for tea this evening, get to know each other a little better.” Sledge, having recovered from his coughing fit, opened his mouth to protest, but Delilah beat him to it. 

“Auntie, I don’t think that’s necess—” 

“Of course we will,” Snafu interjected. “Eugene will go on upstairs and put the kettle on, and Delilah and I will be up in just a few minutes.” He grinned slyly in Mrs. Benoit’s direction. “The two of us need to grab some sweets to bring along.” Mrs. Benoit clapped her hands with delight, and hurried back to the kitchen to bring out what was presumably another tray of desserts, which she was well known for around the neighbourhood. 

“What the hell are you doing, Snafu?” Sledge hissed, ignoring the fact that Delilah was still in the room with them. 

“Just go upstairs, cher,” Snafu reassured him, “it’ll be fine.” Sledge’s face went red at the use of the endearment, but he went upstairs nonetheless. Delilah folded her hands in her lap and looked around the room, avoiding Snafu’s eyes. 

“Here we are, now,” Mrs. Benoit said cheerily, setting another tray on the table. “You two just take these both upstairs. Keep the leftovers for your lunches, Merriell, but I want the trays back!” Snafu kissed Mrs. Benoit’s cheek affectionately, and gestured for Delilah to take the stairs ahead of him. 

* * * 

Sledge set the tea tray on the coffee table, pouring a cup for Delilah. For Snafu, he had brought over a cup of coffee, slightly burnt after sitting for so long (just the way he liked it). 

“Help yourself to a tart, if you like,” Sledge offered, pushing the tray toward Delilah. She politely accepted, nibbling delicately at the shell as Sledge finished preparing his own cup of tea. 

“Welcome to our home,” Sledge said, swallowing hard. “Sorry that Mrs. Benoit forced you to come up here, but we really are glad to have you—” 

“I’m not going to tell,” Delilah blurted out. “I promise, I’m not going to say a word about you to her, or anyone else.” Sledge nearly dropped his teacup at the force of her words. 

“You aren’t?” Snafu asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“No,” Delilah said, taking a deep breath. “I can imagine how hard it must be for you to live…like this. Together, I mean.” She looked around the room, and her eyes stopped on the wall hung with photographs. 

“You met in the Army?” she asked, pointing at their battalion photograph. 

“Marines,” Sledge corrected her gently. “We were partners on Peleliu, and on Okinawa – shared a 60mm mortar.” Delilah nodded. 

“Did you know…then?” she wondered, looking down at the teacup she had clenched between her hands. 

“Did we know what?” Snafu asked, leaning forward. 

“That you were…” she trailed off, looking between them. “That you were homosexuals?” Sledge flinched, and Delilah covered her hand with her face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, cher, don’t worry about that,” Snafu said, reaching out and patting her shoulder. “It’s just a word. I knew before I joined the Marines, but Eugene,” he paused, looking up to Sledge with a smile, “he would have found some nice lady and settled down with her if I hadn’t got in his way.” Snafu glanced over to Delilah, who had set her tea down on the coffee table. 

“I’d never thought about another fella before I met Merriell,” Sledge admitted, sitting down on the couch beside Snafu. “But after we came home, I knew that there wasn’t anyone else out there who understood me like he does. And that was that.” 

Delilah nodded, fiddling with an opal ring on her right hand. She was quiet for a minute, contemplative, even. Finally, she looked up and said her piece. 

“I never thought I’d meet someone else like me,” she admitted, surprising both Sledge and Snafu. “During the war, I worked in the munitions factory, and I met a girl like no one else I’ve ever seen.” She smiled to herself, remembering the moment. “Her name is Julie. I’ve always wanted to tell someone about her, but…” 

“We know,” Sledge said softly. “We know what it’s like to hide.” Delilah sniffled slightly, and brushed away a tear with her hand. Snafu offered her a clean handkerchief, and she accepted with a slight giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” Snafu asked, smiling. 

“You two live right under everyone’s noses, don’t you?” she asked, shaking her head incredulously. “All this time and no one has ever wondered about two unmarried men living together above a flower shop?” Sledge and Snafu exchanged a look. 

“My parents know,” Sledge said, a hint of sadness colouring his voice. “My mother saw us outside, maybe a month after we came home from overseas.” 

“What happened?” Delilah asked. 

“We had to come here,” Snafu sighed, putting an arm around Sledge’s shoulders. “They’re better about it, now that they’ve had some time to think on it. But we don’t go back to visit often. They’re…” 

“Ashamed,” Sledge finished. “They’re embarrassed to have a son like me.” He stared at the floor for a moment, and looked up with a rye smile. “But I barely ever have to eat collard greens now, and I get to wake up beside my best friend every day.” He leaned over and kissed Snafu’s temple. Suddenly, a furry flash of grey appeared in Sledge’s lap – Louis had emerged from his hiding place. Snafu reached over and scratched the tabby beneath his chin, which Louis responded to with a happy chirp. Delilah grinned with disbelief – she had never even imagined that two people could live such a life together. 

“So are you glad you just went for it?” she asked after a minute. “Being together like this, I mean.” Snafu turned his head toward Sledge, whose face was only inches from his own. He shrugged, and turned back to face Delilah. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to tentatively say that this is the end of the series, but that's not set in stone. Comment with any requests for additions - I can insert new pieces at any point in the story!


End file.
